A Hundred Themes with The Doctor and His Friends
by Silk Spectre
Summary: A hundred theme challenge, lots of male on male implied or explicit, with Doctor and the Master and Jack and Owen and Ianto and everyone. Probably mostly Jack Harkness. Please Read and Review!
1. 1: Love

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

It was morning, already. I thought I ought to disentangle myself, maybe make Ianto some eggs. God, the things to be done with a pocket watch. Yet, despite years and years and beds and beds of practice, I managed to wake him up.

"Dammit." I swore under my breath. Oh well, at least I got to see him with bed-head, sleepy eyes, and an askew tie, the only thing he'd kept on after a night of rolling in the hay.

"I love you." He murmured sleepily, reaching to stroke my jaw. My eyes widened, and there was a beat or two before I answered. I could feel him tense with each second.

"I live you too, kid. How about breakfast?" His face showed his disappointment, as did his demeanor as he started hunting for his clothing.

"N-no, I should get going. I... I should go home, and shower..."

"You could use the shower here." I chuckled. "I could join you."

He blushes, and shakes his head. "No, no I ... I need to go..." He starts to hurry out of the room. I get up. I don't want things to end like this, before they've even started.

I pin him to the wall easily, my still nude body against his. "Ianto..."

"Jack...." I steal his lips for a long soft kiss, feeling him melt against me. When I pull away, he speaks again, leaning his forehead against my chest. "Jack..."

I move a strand of hair past his forehead, I kiss his temple, moving his chin so his eyes and mine meet.

"Just because I don't say it doesn't mean I don't feel it." I kiss his lips again, and I feel the vibrations as he whimpers into my mouth. I pull away, noticing the water in his eyes.

"Just say it. Just once. Please." He needs to hear it... I kiss his ear, give it a tiny nip.

"I love you, Ianto Jones..." My voice is husky, barely above a whisper. He's clinging to my midsection, a hug, and I feel again just how vulnerable he is, how he needs to be validated... How much he loves me.... I can't take this kind of seriousness, so I pull away with my charming smile, chuckling lightly.

"Now, make me some coffee, and I'll make you eggs."


	2. 2: Orgasm

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"What do you mean, you've never had an orgasm?" Jack was amazed. "You're what, a thousand years old?"

"N-nine hundred and five. What the hell have you been giving me to drink? Is this... hypervodka? You've drugged me!"

"Oh you knew what it was before you started drinking, don't change the subject. How in hell have you not gotten your rocks off in over nine hundred years! I was celibate for two hundred or so, once, and it nearly drove me mad, and I was busy choking on dirt for the majority of that time, thank you very much."

The doctor pouted. "Jack, it's not a big deal. Time Lords, we just... we don't work that way."

Jack squinted. "Alright, I'll be blunt. How in hell does your species make babies?"

The doctor blushed. This was intimate information, even if it was certainly not sexual. Great Gallifreya, how many hypervodkas had he thrown back by this point? Five, Six? Maybe even Seven? He'd been keeping up with Jack. That in itself ought to tell him he's in trouble.

"We Weave them. On a loom. We used to mate, but then a curse happened, and we can't anymore. Haven't been able to for centuries. So we Weave them. On a Loom. "

"Like a poncho?" Jack was incredulous.

"No, this is infinitely more difficult than a poncho. God... if any fool who knew how to make a poncho could make a Gallifreyan baby, the universe would be in great trouble indeed." I laugh. When was the last time I laughed like this? Rose? Maybe...

"So you weave your babies on a loom. That is one of the most bizarre mating sequences I've ever heard of, and I've been pregnant."

"It's not the kind of loom you're thinking. It's... it's difficult to explain. I remember waiting to be loomed."

"You were sentient before birth? Is that possible?"

The Doctor shrugs. "I don't know. I just.. remember."

"...... Okay doc, I think you've had enough to drink. By the way... you -do- have equipment down there, right?"

The Doctor blinks, glancing around the TARDIS. "What? What kind of equipment? This vessel is fully stocked with mostly anything you might need..."

"Equipment. Junk. Gear..." Jack tried a few more euphemisms before giving up. "A penis, Doctor, do you have one?"

The young blond would have done a spit take if Jack hadn't taken away his drink. "W-well... I mean... of c-course... I just... Yes! Yes, of course I do! I am a _male_, Jack!"

Jack snickered. "Prove it. Let me see."

The Doctor put both his hands over his vulnerable area, shaking his head. "No. Why should I?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The Doctor tried to mull that through his inebriated brain. "You go first."

"Uhn uh. Both of us, at the same time. Only way to be fair."

The doctor looked a little queasy at the entire idea. "Bet I'm bigger." He muttered, hands going to his fly.

"How much do you want to wager on that bet, Doctor?"

"I don't carry money, Jack. What do you suggest we wager?"

"If I win, I want to give something to you. You can't refuse it."

That sounded safe enough. "So long as it's not a gun..."

"It's not a gun, doctor..."

"And if I win?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll do whatever you want."

The two men shook hands over the table, before getting up, the Doctor stumbling, and moving to a more optimal area, a sitting room like space. Facing each other in opposite arm chairs, they had intense eye contact as they undid their zippers, The Doctor fumbling, Jack confident and smooth. Neither man was erect, yet it was clear that Jack was the winner.

"Dammit!" The Doctor looked at himself with mild irritation. "My last incarnation, the tenth, now -he- was big. I promise. He would've beat you."

"Well, we're not playing this with your other incarnations. It's just you, and me. And I won."

"...Well then, what is it that you want to give me?"And before the Doctor knew it, Jack was on his knees in front of the arm chair, his face buried in blond unkempt pubic hairs. "AH! What the bloody hell, Jack?!"

The Captain chuckled, pulling away a bit. "You said I could give you anything. I'm going to give you a goddamn blow job, and you're going to like it."

"But... But..." The Doctor's protests were drowned out by his moans as Jack ran an expert tongue over the thickening length.

"Not too bad, Doctor.... " Jack began to bob his head, accepting more and more of the member between his lips, into his throat. The Doctor was speechless with pleasure, long fingers weaving their way into Jack's hair. Jack pulls away to glance at the Doctor's flushed face, his mouth open, his eyes squeezed shut, little noises coming from his throat."You look so human..."

The Timelord's eyes snap open. "M'not human... you lot look Timelord... Ahn... please... M-more..."

Jack resumed his teasing little licks and nibbles, the light suction, just barely enough. "Like that?"

"Nnn... Delae'Shoun, Delae'Shoun, Pazithi Gallifreya!" Jack pulls back at the nonsense, hand still moving at the Doctor's base.

"Are you alri-" He is interrupted by a face full of clear liquid, sweeter than semen, but mildly acidic, like kiwi fruit. It stings in his eyes, but not too badly.

"N-N-Ni'si Sop'Aet.... it's alright... I... Holy... Th-that was good..."

Jack grins at the look on the doctor's face as he is spent. "Heh. You're welcome.... got a towel in this TARDIS, Doc?"


	3. 3: Finger

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

The Doctor was bloodied and beaten. How many days, weeks, months had it been now? Saxon and his blasted Toclafane. Martha gone, Tishs' plans spoiled. Jacks' screaming a constant background melody. As if the forced aging and reversal wasn't terrible enough, being beaten by The Master's guards, occasionally by the Master himself, it was just too much. The Doctor wouldn't be able to hang on much longer.

"J-Just an hour or two of mercy... you w-won't get any amusement if you kill me and I don't regenerate..."

Another slap across the face, some blood splattering against the attackers previously snow white dress shirt. The Master was not pleased. "Sigma Theta, if you are going to request something, do it properly. And look what you've done to my shirt!"

The Doctor ground loose teeth. He could feel from the throbbing that his nose was broken. He could tell that his ribs were cracked. His two hearts pounded a throbbing pulse in his neck and his temples. He spit blood to the floor, already a mess of sick and sweat and tears. "Master, I beg of you...some respite." He tensed against his bonds lightly, testing them. Useless, he knew. "Perhaps a shower, some clothes, a meal... build me up so you can break me more, Master...."

"How dare you instruct me on how to torture you, little one...I do so love hearing -that- word from you though. Say it again."

"Which word? I -" The Doctor was interrupted by another slap, this time with a belt. He wished he could at least see where the blows were coming from, but a heavy blindfold kept him in artificial dark. He could feel heat on his skin, sunlight. He wished he could see it. He wished he could be cool and clean and free, if only for a few minutes. He needed a break, or this would truly break him. Something had to give, the torture, or him.

"Master, you fool. Call me my name."

The Doctor was all but praying that obeying would make the hitting stop. That maybe he'd get some clothes, be sent back to his cage. That the metal biting into his wrists would be removed. "Master... oh Master, please... please stop... Meyopapa... Master... Koschei..." Another slap with the belt, across his burning ribs, eliciting a scream. "MASTER! MASTER, PLEASE STOP!" Tears were soaking through the thick blindfold, and sobs wracked the dislocated shoulders of The Doctor.

"That's better, that's what I want to hear..." The Doctor was too tired and strained to wince as he felt a hand go through his hair, down his face and bare chest, pausing at his navel to poke about playfully.

"P-p-please, Master... please stop...."

"Hush now, Ka Faraq Gatri.... where is the Darkness you bring now? Where is the fire you use to destroy worlds?" The Doctor whimpers as he feels Saxon start to tug at upper pubic hairs, trying to goad a response from the tired cracked and bleeding lips.

"P-please Master... You know I'm helpless... Please just stop, for a moment, Please Master..."

"Alright... how would you like for me to only use one finger, for the rest of all I do to you today? Would that suite you, Snail?"

The Doctor nodded eagerly. "Yes please, Master." Can't very well hold a belt with one finger. Can't slap properly either. "Yes Master, that would ... be very nice... please..."

Still bound, still blind, but calmer already, the Doctor was a sight to behold. The bruises and the blood, such a delicious little meal for a maniacs' fantasies. "You're certain about this, Wormhole?" The Master was salivating at this whole new idea. Inspiration just came to him, in fits and sparks, and he heeded them all, at once, regardless of contradictions. If he wanted to hit the Doctor, he'd do so. If he wanted to kick him, punch him, whip him, he had the resources at his fingertips. His lovely little fingertips. Such long fingers, this 'Saxon' incarnation. That was the inspiration for this 'offer'. Silly little Theta, thinking that he had any way of avoiding what the Master wanted. Whatever the Master wants, the Master gets.

"V-Very certain, Master. Please... one finger... no more hitting, no more belting... no more welts...." He was so sore, all over, the Doctor.

"As you wish..." The Doctor bit his already bloody lip at the feeling of one finger tracing lines in his forehead. It then tapped his nose. He wished very, very hard but silently to be unblindfolded. His wishes went unanswered, as the single digit traced his mouth and pushed between the lips. "Suckle it, Theta..." The Master flicked the nail off chipped teeth, wiggling and pressing against the Doctor's gag reflex briefly, prompting a rush of spittle. The Doctor obeyed, suckling, tongue coating the finger with the slimy bloody spit by proxy.

"That's enough." The Master retracted the finger, and trailed it along Theta's thigh, wondering briefly about his long nail, before chuckling. It would just make things interesting...without warning, the Master removed his finger from the thigh and jabbed it roughly into the Doctor's tight virgin entrance, not heeding the clenching of muscles, nor the screaming keening noise from the Doctors' hoarse throat.

"M-Meyopapa, Master, Please, oh Pazithi Gallifreya that HURTS!" It was a new pain, an internal pain, and the Doctor didn't want to have to deal with it. He squirmed as much as he could, only managing to impale himself further on the unrelenting index, twisting within him. He yelped and cried as he felt a nail drawing blood from his inner walls, serving as further lubricant for a slow and brutal finger fucking, bringing him no pleasure. The Master couldn't contain his chuckles. The Doctor looked so flustered, so 'uncool', so very much out of control. So damaged, so_ his. _

"You're my meat puppet, Doctor. Get used to it."

The Doctor never did, never could, never would.  
This year never happened, but the trauma could never be truly forgotten.


	4. 4: Inflation Male Pregnancy

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Jack had had lovers aplenty. Green skin? Check. Gills? Check. Odd cooing noises as sole language? Check and mate. Ohhh Mate. Mate mate mate mate. Humans had become proverbial bunnies by Jacks' day. Jack was experienced. Jack knew his way around the block, the octagon, and the dodecahedron. He knew that not all 'sperm' tasted the same, that some species didn't have 'sperm' at all. He knew that certain breeds would change colour as they climaxed, that others would go through a trans-space shift and disappear, coming back into a visual dimension after calming down. Jack Harkness truly thought that he had seen it all. Hell, he'd cataloged half of it for Torchwood. "Jack, we're not sure how this reproduces, mate with it" was almost a bi-monthly assignment.

So it is really was just another day when on duty, for 'the good of the British Empire' he found himself completely entangled with all six limbs of a highly intelligent, misunderstood and quiet creature from Sector M-96. God this thing was amazing. A tentacle like phallic instrument, thick and long but not too much so, gently but relentlessly thrusting into Jacks' accustomed entrance, hitting all the right spots. All five mouths, one on the face, one on each palm, all kissing and suckling. Yes, Jack Harkness was in a form of heaven. Unfortunately, he'd been there for several hours now, and had spent every last drop of his seed. The creature's stamina was amazing, and with each shuddering climax it had, a small bag on its abdomen would empty slightly, but soon refill. Jack assumed it was an appendix of sorts, meant for holding this creatures equivalent of sperm. He was learning a lot, but damn, he was tired. As tired as an immortal could get, at least.

How many times had he accepted the aliens' goo into his gut? How many more shots could he take? He was already starting to feel cramping, bloating... this couldn't be good. Surely, if this continued, he would burst. But, for the sake of science, Jack grinned and bore it, knowing that as soon as it was over, he'd be able to clean up and be fine. And of course, if there was an emergency, he could contact Torchwood... but he'd rather not have this poor things mating rituals interrupted.... and those lips on his back and neck and cheek and lips and nipple all felt so good... it was like group sex, but less awkward, less fighting.

Ah... but way more filling. Jack took a few deep breaths, trying to let the pains in his guts calm down, starting to squirm, and pull away. "That's enough, big fella. All I can take...."

The lost traveler shook its head, pinning Jack firmly with all four arms, two legs between Jacks', thrusting all that much faster, hitting the prostate again and again and again, wanting Jack to be happy, to let it finish whatever its goal was. Jack could do nothing but moan limply, his tired, overstimulated, over sensitive member hardening and preparing to spew again. The Creature beat him to it by a few seconds, this time using one of the many hands to press on the sac, emptying it fully into the slightly less than willing immortal human.

"Fuck, that...ahn, God what the..." Jack ground his teeth in surprised agony, the skin of his torso felt tight. But there was no sloshing, no liquid dripping down his thighs. Even as the creature removed the tentacle, laying beside Jack and running fingers, three on each hand, through his hair, there was no leakage. Tears stung Jacks' eyes. "It hurts...." He whimpered, and the creature made a clicking noise, gently caressing and palm kissing the engorged belly.

"Wh-what did you do? Oh God... I'm gonna be sick...." Jack barely managed to get his head over the edge of the mattress before stomach acid and lunch pushed past his teeth and lips. The creature rubbed his back, made understanding noises, and wiped his mouth with a corner of the sheets when he was done. Jack lay back, his hands skimming the stretched tender skin. He yelped in surprise as he watched something inside press against his palm, stretching the skin even more.

"I'm pregnant?! You little bastard...." He fumbled for his comunicator, rather peeved at his cuddly bedmate. "You could've warned me, you know..."

The creature just made more clicking noises. Damned thing... "Torchwood one, this is Agent Jack, I have a situation, repeat, I have a situation."

That bitchy woman responded promptly. "Agent Jack, we hear you loud and clear, please give details as to your problem."

Jack sighed. "The damn thing knocked me up. Assistance is required."

Jack tried to ignore the laughter he could hear in the background. It was going to be a hell of an evening.


	5. 5: SoundenAiSoftcore

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

The doctor is sleeping, dreaming a memory, something he hasn't thought of in hundreds of years. He was so young. Mortally young, so imperfect, such burning curiosity running through his veins. Seven years old.

Day 128: February 24  
Intuitive Revolution Day

Koschei and Theta, playing on the red hills, learning, exploring. Avoiding the other children, the more mainstream thinkers, the bullies.

"You know what this day's supposed to be used for, Theta?"

The future Doctor shrugged. They'd talked about it, at home and in class, but he hadn't paid much attention. The history of Gallifrey bored him. There were planets to see. So many other, different cultures, far more interesting than his own.

"Well, once upon a time no one could talk. They all just used mind links. And we were like a hive mind. This day is celebrating that we're not like that anymore, I think." Koschei hadn't really paid full attention either, but he liked feeling like he could educate Theta, even if his grip on the real purpose of the holiday was weak.

Theta Sigma perked up. "Have you ever intuitive talked? Since the loom, I mean? I haven't."

Koschei shook his head. "Uhn uh, mind to mind speak, it's... what's the word that the Grumblies use? Intimate?"

"Yeah intimate. Father said intimate just means special and grown up."

"Well, we're grown up. We get to the schism soon!" Koschei was excited for that ritual, that coming of age ceremony, the final step before being sent to the academy, becoming a real true time lord.

Theta nodded. "Wanna try it?"

"Of course!" The slightly bigger boy was eager to try this new, intimate thing. "How do you do it?"

Now that was something the younger boy knew, something he had given strict attention to. Every culture had holidays. So few had selective mind to mind communication. "You touch and you open your mind and you push and you listen. I've never done it, but it can't be too hard."

"I wanna try!" Koschei scooted closer to the smaller Gallifreyan, putting his hand on the side of his face, brushing his temple, looking him in they eyes.

Theta stayed still, trying to 'open his mind', trying to recall how his thought patterns were scattered in the loom, that spark of individuality shared throughout a biofeed.

After a few minutes of fumbling, Koschei was in, two innocent minds sharing the same plane of space, mingling, different view points mingling and becoming one. It hurt a bit, at first, but soon it felt good, bright, warm, and ... right. Neither were aware of how long they stayed in that mental embrace, only that when it finally broke, the sun was down, the bright face of Pazithi Gallifreya illuminating the night with it's copper light.

"That was... that was nice..." Theta blushed. There were butterflies in his stomach. There was a lightness in his head, he felt... good.

"Yes... it... I don't think we should tell anyone." The older boy felt uncertain. That felt good, but ... surely doing such things was forbidden, or everyone would be doing it all the time, and he'd certainly never seen it before... he leaned in to press his lips against Theta's, brief, chaste.

"Okay." He returned the light lip pressure, sealing the deal. "We'll be friends forever." He smiled.

"Yup. Forever." He ruffled the others' hair, smiling, before taking his hand and leading him home.


	6. 6: Hardcore

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Jack was perusing a magazine when Ianto came into the hub late one night. By perusing, of course. Jack meant 'touching himself to'. And by 'touching himself to', Jack meant more of a 'had looked at all the pictures and was now completely naked on his bed with a toy and enough oil on himself to keep a small engine running for a month, leaving the magazine open to a random page for reference'. So absorbed was he in 'perusing' he didn't even notice Ianto until he'd snatched the magazine.

"These are your tastes, Sir? You never said so..." Jack's eyes snapped open as Ianto flipped through the BDSM catalog, complete with 'real life testimonies to the products'. AKA; smut. He would have said something, had he not been rather busy moaning as his hips shook and he climaxed into a preplanned kleenex.

"Ah...hah.... s'just....a curiosity."

"A curiosity... right... makes us look bloody vanilla, this does....Sir." Ianto blushed as he looked at the hardcore material.

Jack cleaned himself up, removing and wiping off the toy, putting it away, starting to change the sheets, habitual post masturbation tasks. "I like vanilla. It's an underrated flavour."

"You don't want us to... invest in certain items, Sir?" Ianto continued to flip through pages, biting his lip. "P'raps a flogger or a ... I don't even know what these are, Jack."

Captain Harkness retrieved the articles from his favourite member of the Torchwood team. "Ah, these? Those are...." He squinted. "Those are....rigid restraints? Maybe? Maybe it's an orgasm denial device. Either way, no, we don't... we don't need them."

"Well how're we to go about spicing things up, without any toys?"

"You really want to leave Vanilla behind for a while, Ianto?"

He licked his lips before nodding slowly. "Assuming we can go back to it, if... if we want."

"Of course... Ever played naked hide and seek?"

Ianto shook his head."No sir..."

"It's easy. You strip, I'll count to fifty."

was throwing his clothing off as he noticed Jack peeking between his fingers. "Oi, no cheating!"

"I always cheat, Ianto."


	7. 7: Fantasy

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Bump bump bump bump.

Bump bump bump bump.

Rhythm of four.

Rhythm of four.

Time Lord heartbeat.

That's all it is.

My own heartbeat.

Nothing is wrong.

Everything's fine.

Part of the plan.

The plan is good.

Doctor is mine.

Theta Sigma

So cute when doused

in blood sweat tears

crying for help

that will not come.

You are my slave.

Mine, forever.

To love and keep.

To hate and beat.

Mine, to treasure.

My fantasy.

My obsession.

My little Theta

tied up all tight.

For me to stroke

and lovingly

caress and hold.

My bright doctor

pinned under me,

moaning, panting.

Destroyer of

worlds at my feet.

Begging, kneeling,

taking my cock

between his lips.

Pride in my heart,

watching him try

hard not to break.

But he will break.

Or he will die.

He is all mine.

Body and soul.

He just doesn't

accept it yet.

He will love me.

One day he will.

Maybe not this

incarnation.

Perhaps the next.

He can't say no.

He'd better not.

I'm the Master.

The Godspodar.

Mister Seta.

I am Yana.

I am Melkur.

I am even

Doctor Keller.

A real Doctor.

To be like him.

Theta Sigma,

my little love,

could Master me,

pant over me,

make me whimper

make me his toy

make me scream out

his name to the

red mountains of

our Gallifrey.

Cuddling after,

we'd talk at length

of childhood past.

We'd be best friends.

Just like before.

Before the schizm

pulled me inside

starting all this.

The madness of...

Rhythm of four.

Rhythm of four.

Bump bump bump bump.

Bump bump bump bump.


	8. 8: Family

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"Dammit Gray." Jack stared at the closed eyes of his little brother. Eyes that would remain closed due to the sedatives. Eyes that when open, burned with hatred to his older brother. Eye that has shown satisfaction as Jack had laid down quietly to be buried alive.

"He can't hear you, Jack." Ianto put a hand on his lover's shoulder, not sure how to help right now. So much had gone so wrong. Owen, Tosh, lost. The hub felt empty without them.

"You don't know that." Irritable, Jack shook the hand from his shoulder. On one hand he was thankful for the attempt at comfort. Though Ianto had seen Jack mere hours ago, the immortal man had just spent almost two thousand years alone, swallowing dirt, choking, dying, coming back. "He might be able to hear me..."

"And 'dammit Gray' is what you want him to hear, Sir?" Ianto didn't understand why Jack was being so cold, and knew only that he felt defensive, putting on a cold shoulder tone as well. "Curses are hardly useful, -Sir-."

"Don't start that goddamn 'sir' bullshit again, Ianto. Could you give us a moment? Please?"

"Yessir." Ianto looked away before striding off to go make coffee. It'd been a hell of a day, he -had- to cut Jack some slack. But he couldn't find it in himself to do so.

"Dammit Gray.... " Jack moved some strands of hair from his brother's face. "I didn't mean to let you go. We were kids..."

No response. Did he really expect one? Did he _-want-_ one? Maybe... just for a minute.... let the IV drip go.... keep him sedated, just not... not unconscious like this. It was too much like watching a dead body. Jack had had enough of dead bodies today. A few minutes couldn't hurt... Jack deftly pulled one of the many needles from his younger brother's wrist, stopping the flow of chloroform and pre-cryo chems.

"Wake up Gray... wake up... we need to talk... we never got to talk..." Jack smoothed the younger boys' hair, tracing his face with fingers, wanting to memorize this, keep it safe....

Gray woke up with burning lungs, sitting up to cough, tears stinging his eyes. He was alive? He expected to be dead. He'd failed at revenge to the fullest. Jack had come back, and now... oh God his lungs. More coughing, a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it. A distant voice.

"Just get it all out, Gray... breathe...you'll be okay...." Jack. Fucking -Jack-. Of course it was Jack. Who else would do this?

"What...What the hell..." Cough cough. Hack hack. "What the hell do you -want-, big brother?! You won. Just kill me already."

"I can't do that... you should know that I can't do that."

"You let me go. You let them get me. They.... they hurt me..." Gray swallowed thickly. He didn't want to cry. He was a grown man, crying hadn't gotten him anywhere, ever.

"I know they did... I'm sorry..."

"Sorry isn't good enough!"

"Was dying, for two thousand years? Was choking on dirt, as you wanted, dying, being dragged over glass coming back, feeling all of my nerves scream, was that enough? What is enough for you, Gray?"

The younger brother looked away. "I don't know. I....I honestly don't know..." The tears started, coming unannounced, coming hard. "I duh-don't know anything! All I know if pain, and hatred, and wishing for death! That's the life you gave me, Jack, when you let go of my hand! How can I not hate you, with what you caused me?!" He choked on sobs, and for a moment of panic, felt as if there was dirt in his mouth. Flashes of all the torture he went through passed over his minds' eye, and he found himself weeping harder.

But this time, he as not alone in his cries. There was an answer other than an echo. Firm arms held him, rocking him.

"We're brothers, Gray. I've got your back. I'm sorry, and... we'll fix this." He pressed a chaste kiss to the tearful mans' forehead. "We'll fix this. I promise."


	9. 9: Whip

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Jack pulled against his chains. He didn't care how the guards chuckled, how the Toclafane squealed, how the Master mocked him. He pulled and he pulled and he felt his muscles scream in agony. He would get out. He had to. This torture was a joke, but it was a cherry on the sundae of motivation for leaving the Falcon. There was Earth to save, the human race to keep safe, a paradox machine to shut down. There was shit to do, he was not just going to hang here and be tortured.

"I don't have time for this bull..."Jack grunted with the effort. "C'mon c'mon c'mon...." He sighed, giving himself a short reprieve.

Chuckles broke in on his personal time. Jack didn't even have to look up. Harold Saxon. The Master. Or 'that rat bastard' as he had come to more fondly call him. "You don't actually believe you'll get free from here, do you, Captain?" The Master strode into view, hands behind his back, poorly keeping a wrapped box from Jack's sight.

"Worth a try, I've got to do -something- in my spare time." Jack pondered for a moment, arching his back in a stretch, as much as he could. "What's in the box?"

"Oh this? Nothing much, just something I picked up.... something for you, but you'll have to earn it..."

"I don't work with terrorists. Unless I agree with them." Another chuckle from the Master's lips.

"You honestly have no choices, Jack... surely you're getting rather bored of the monotony... The general cause differs, but aren't you sick and tired of me killing you, with my bare hands, with guns? Surely you'd prefer something more... exotic. Some privileges, a way of spicing up your day."

Jack couldn't help but squint at the blond man in front of him. "You're offering torture differences. That's what in the box. Some kind of little toy for you, something so you can watch me squirm longer...."

"If that's how you want to see, it perhaps...." The Master sat, putting the box beside him, cleaning his nails. "What would you be willing to give for a break in monotony?"

"What in hell do I have to give, you nut?! I'm all trussed up here like a turkey, what can I give you that you haven't already taken?!" Jack was getting rather peeved, he didn't like being reminded of his current helplessness...

"Ohh touchy touchy.... There's something in your mind, something you won't let me see. I want in that box. You'll get ten minutes of guarded walking time per day, Captain. Maybe even more, with what I've got in the box..."

"It's nothing valuable to you. It's just sentimental bull..." For a moment, Jack felt vulnerable. To be let down from the chains, for ten minutes every day... that'd be valuable for reconnaissance, he'd be able to check on the doctor, look around the ship... but... no. "I don't negotiate with assholes."

"First I'm a terrorist, now I'm an asshole, is that right..." The Master had lost his amused chuckles. "I could break into that box, I could. Your psychic training is just enough that busting in would break you. Do you -want- to be reduced to a vegetable, Jack? I'm only keeping you alive for as long as you prove to be fun to play with. So I firmly suggest you play with me."

"It's thoughts and memories that I myself don't touch, okay? I sure as hell am not sharing them with you."

"I -know- that!" The Master snapped, looking to one of the guards who scurried forward. Saxon relieved the man of his fire arm, and proceeded to pistol-whip Jack across the jaw. Jack knew enough to turn with the blow, barely avoiding a cracked jaw. He spat blood to the floor. He felt with the pain and ringing in his ears, and overwhelming wave of helplessness.

"It's thoughts of my daughter. Her mother. My grandson." Jack rolled his eyes upward, blinking rapidly. Scream, yes, but cry? Never. He wasn't going to give Saxon that kind of satisfaction.

"Ah, -Family-... what touchy feely thoughts. Was that so hard? Oh... it appears perhaps it was for you... oh well..." The Master unwrapped and opened the box. Jack was no longer really paying any attention. That suited the Master just fine...

Jack yelped at the first landing of what could only be called an electric whip. The chuckles returned.

"This, Jack, is a Beta-Centauri Laser Whip. I got it delivered special..."

"A whip? That's all you've got here? God, as if I've not used whips in goddamn foreplay, 'Master'." Jack sneered. Truly this 'Master' guy was a hack when it came to inflicting pain.

"Not one like this, Captain...What you felt there was the lowest of fifty settings. Setting forty can kill a Narn. Have you ever compared the physiology of a Narn and a human?"

Jack saw where this was going. "No, I haven't. I know where we're compatible, but beyond that..."He winced. Narns were tough creatures. If forty could kill them, more than likely that twenty or twenty five could kill him. Briefly, but still... "So what, you expect me to survive all fifty settings, and I get my walk?"

"No, Mister bond, I expect you to die!" The Master actually buckled over, laughing hard at his own joke. "I've always wanted to say that!"

"You're just a cracked as any one of the Bond villans, sir." Jack sneered.

"I'm a damn sight more successful, you know. Earth is in ruins at my feet. My plan has already come to fruition. It doesn't matter if I'm 'cracked' Jack. What matters is that you're fucked."

Jack couldn't argue that, so he just stared sullenly for a few minutes. "So.... how's the whip going to get me my walks?"

"Was your little primate brain not paying any attention? You're going to -die-."

This was hardly news to Jack. He always died. "And....?"

The Master sighed. "You creatures are so thick. I'm going to whip you. Each lash is going to go up a setting. You can tell me to stop whenever. You will be left in relative for the rest of the day."

Jack nodded. Sounded like a pretty sweet deal.

"And if you can take every lash, until you die, without letting out a peep of protest, when you wake up you get your walk."

"Wait... not even a peep? No...no yelling?" Yelling was how Jack dealt with pain. As far as he was concerned, internalizing it was poison.

"No yelling. No yelping. Those won't stop the whipping, but they will shorten your walk by one minute. Ever lash you take silently over the fifteen mark lengthens your walk by two minutes. I'm being -very- reasonable." The Master flicked Jack's thigh with the second setting, eliciting no noise, but a shudder.

"Yes... Yes you are." Too reasonable.

Too reasonable indeed. Though the Master held true to his agreement the first and second day, the third he didn't stop even though Jack broke at the tenth lash. The third day, Jack was silent throughout, but no walk was to be had. The Master held the rules in his hands, he changed them at will.

No one could ever win, against the Master.


	10. 10: CostumeRegalia

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

It had been a long day in the hub. Ianto had ducked out sick to Jack's quarters at around noon, they really could have used their filer/coffee maker present. Nothing too serious had happened, just a lot of tedium. Jack realized for the first time just how much he missed having the well dressed man around, even if only in the background. He planned on making Ianto hot soup, maybe even just cuddling and watching a movie tonight, staying in. And not staying in for hide and seek, but staying in and being...cuddly. Cuddles are good for colds, right?

Jack was snapped from his caring thoughts by Gwen, asking insipidly redundant questions about weevils. Jack answered distractedly, just wanting everyone to go home, to let him take care of his lover. Owen had insisted that all Ianto had was sniffles, probably seasonal allergies or the like, but since when did Jack fully trust Owen? That boy was a rat, a weasel. A cute ratty weasel, but still a rodent. Jack sighed. It was already a long day. Slowly the minutes melded into hours and everyone scattered to their own directions. Jack all but sprinted to his bunk.

"Ianto, where can I order soup fro-." Jack froze, as did Ianto, the latter man having a look on his face much like a child with a hand caught in the cookie jar.

"S-sir...Jack... I just.... I was bored, I...I woke up, I ..." The younger man stuttered more, gripping Jack's berret in two hands, nervously.

Jack stared at his young lover, fully dressed in Jack's world war two uniform, cap in hands. He looked so innocent to be in such an outfit, just like so many men Jack had lost... "You were snooping in the closet?"

"I... only briefly, sir."

Jack winced. "Don't call me sir. Not in those clothes."

Ianto blinked, looking down at the pressed uniform. "Yes... of course Jack... I'm sorry, of course, how thoughtless of me... I'll just put them back..."

"No."

Ianto stared. "Jack?"

"Keep it on..." he smirked. "I never could resist a man in uniform." He crossed the distance between them and stole Ianto's lips in a kiss. "How's that cold?"

Ianto blushed and melted into the kiss. "Thoroughly medicated, Si...Jack. I'll be fine....It was just sniffles and fatigue, in any case..."

"So... postpone soup, missionary position is on the tactical table?" Jack winked.

Ianto blushed more, flustered. "I suppose...So long as the tactical table is the bed. Don't like making it on the hub coffee table. We eat off that."

Jack chuckled. "As you wish, princess."

"Actually Jack, the rank on the lapels here say I'm a bloody captain."

"Well then Captain, prepare to be defrocked!" Jack tackled the very well dressed man to the bed with a kiss.


	11. 11: SemeDominant

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"Hey, John, slow down..." Jack chuckled at the other man's lips on his neck, biting and suckling, the strange long fingers trying to undo his fly. "I don't do it on the first date. I'm a good girl." He winked, pulling the attractive man's wrists away from his groin.

"First date? We're stuck in a loop. It's been days..."

"Then go jack-off, John, I'm not your plaything."

"I'll -Jack- off, alright..." John pulled his wrists away, pinning Jack on his back to the small couch, using one hand to keep him still, the other fumbling with that dratted fly.

"Hey! Hey now, let's not be hasty!" Jack squirmed. He had to admit though, with each inhale of pheromones, John Hart was looking hotter and hotter.

"Oh let's. Please and thank you, 'Captain'." John nipped at Jack's collar bone, finally getting into the pants, palming Jack's length through boxers. "Ohh yes, this is nice..."

Jack could do nothing but moan at the sensations, squirming, managing to fall off the couch, John landing on top of him. "John, stop it... ahn..." He bit his lip, not sure if this was playful forcefulness or rape...

"Aw c'mon, Jack... you know you want it..." John continued to feel the bulge in Jack's boxers for a few moments before seating himself upon the couch. "Jack, kneel." His tone was that of human to a dog, an edge to it that demanded obedience.

Jack blushed as he found himself upon his knees, hot at the idea of being bossed around by this crazy dominant man. "Yessir..." He shivered at the notion of being slave like for John; it was rare for someone to get him in this position, he was so often the 'seme' of any brief relationship... yet here he was, on his knees.

John unbuttoned his pants, not needing to bother with underwear, it wasn't his habit to wear any, getting directly to work of shoving his prick against Jack's lips. "Suck it, lick it... do a good job." He had a sneer on his lips that gave away to a small smile when Jack followed orders.

Jack licked and suckled, savouring the sweetness of precum on his tongue. He was a good cocksucker, he'd had practice. He wasn't used to feeling so vulnerable, so subservient, though. It felt so thrilling, it warranted the light touches to his member through his boxers. He moaned around the meat in his mouth, looking up with wanton eyes.

John was loving every second of this, his smile slight as he contained moans between his teeth, a hand firm in Jack's hair. "So good..." He felt Jack's voice vibrate along his length, and arched his back, shivering. He peered down at the other man, noticing how Jack's right arm was hidden from view, moving slowly. It didn't take a genius to know what Jack was up to, and John Hart simply wasn't going t abide for such a thing going on without his expressed supervision. He pulled his member from Jack's mouth, slapping at his cheek with it before putting it away. "You naughty, naughty thing" John caught Jack's offending wrist, giving the knuckles a tap with his finger. " What do you think you're doing?"

Jack was dumbfounded. "Doing? I'm not even jerking it, John. Just touching. That's allowed, right?" Jack bit his lip, suddenly unsure, and getting a tingle along his spine at the concept of being 'naughty'. He didn't object as John pulled him to a standing position, removing his boxers, having him kick off all garments of below the waist. He didn't say anything, still confused, staring at his disciplined hand, as John pulled him over his lap. It wasn't until the first stinging blow that everything registered, a surprised yelp leaving Jack's throat.

"No, it's not allowed. It's a punishable offense. But, it feels like you like your punishment, don't you Jack." John slipped his non-spanking hand between himself and the other man, playing with his tip. With each moan that John pulled from Jack's lips, his left hand would fall hard on the bare and reddening cheeks. It didn't take long for Jack to be a whimpering, tearful, horny mess. "Going to be a good boy, little Jack?"

Jack felt so damn vulnerable, so humiliated, and had never felt so hot and bothered in his entire life. "Y-yes...fuck me John, Oh God please I need it."

"So much for not on the first date." John chuckled, pushing Jack to leaning over the edge of the couch, his bottom in the air, an absolutely delicious prize. John pried the pink cheeks apart and thrust in mercilessly, the only lubrication being Jack's quickly drying spittle. It was the rough, animalistic, and Jack loved every second of it. When it was finished (too soon, far too soon for Jack's liking) John wiped his hand on the couch, and let his own seed drip down Jack's thighs from his abused hole.

"Oh God.. that was.... that was..." Jack couldn't think of a word to describe how he felt, bent over the couch, hair being pulled, derogatory remarks being whispered into his ear.

"That was just a sampler." John lit a cigar. "Get ready for a night of -real- fun."


	12. 12: Bondage

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

((Took me FOREVER. Wanted to do an Owen gets tied up through funny circumstances then kinky things happen with Ianto and Jack. It just refused to work in character. Sorry it took so long, this is what I had to do instead.))

bond·age /ˈbɒndɪdʒ/ Show Spelled[bon-dij]

–noun

1.

slavery or involuntary servitude; serfdom.

2.

the state of being bound by or subjected to some external power or control.

3.

the state or practice of being physically restrained, as by being tied up, chained, or put in handcuffs, for sexual gratification.

4.

Early English Law. personal subjection to the control of a superior; villeinage.

I, Ianto Jones, often feel that I'm was under a very vague bondage spell. That a single glance from Jack could pin my feet to the spot. That I have manacles of unfair commitment clamped around my wrists. There's no ring on my finger (thank God) but there is still this weight on my heart, like a pendulum, ticking away the moments of entrapment. that's exactly how I feel. Trapped. Trapped in this relationship, this dead end job, this-

"Hey, Coffee Bitch, I need a refill." My internal monologue is cut off by that rat-bastard Owen. A constant reminder to my decline in dignity and fall in social grace. 'Coffee bitch'... such humiliation. Like clockwork, no, more like on auto-pilot, I silently pour another cup for the weasel. I'm startled from the automated process by a firm smack on the ass, causing coffee and cup to fall together.

"Jack!" Coffee burns my leg before I hear the shatter of the cup on the floor of the hub. F = m2 d2r2/dt2 Objects fall at the same rate despite mass. I'm too over-educated for this job.

"Sorry sweetcheeks." A peck to cheek, a fetching of a cool towel. "Didn't mean to stain the suit." Yes, because the suit's got second degree burns now...

"I'm fine."

"Clumsy little file-clerk." Owen's laughing at me. Gwen's whispering with Tosh. I'm blushing up to my ears. Everyone is laughing at me. My leg hurts along the break, oh Jesus why am I thinking about that? My father didn't mean to, not really. No one ever thinks that maybe I'm fragile. I'm a support man. A tea-boy. A 'coffee bitch'. Oh God Ianto, don't cry here, don't make more of a fool of yourself. Damn my leg hurts.

"Shut up Owen." Jack gives the weasel a look. "Go back to work. The rift won't monitor itself."

"I need some damned coffee, Jack! That's his job, ain't it?"

"Coffee. Right. I'll get some coffee." And off I limp, biting my lip hard, broken and humiliated. There's silence behind me. They were staring. I'm sure they were all staring. They always stare. That's what comes from fucking the boss.

"Ian... you okay?"

Autopilot again. Just make coffee. A curt nod. "Yessir."

"No, really..." His arms snake around me and I can't breathe. I'm trapped, held to the spot, tied down without any rope. I melt against him, leaning to relieve the bad leg.

"It hurts. But I'll live. Coffee?" God I hate that word. Sure, I'm good at making it, coffee is something I'm good at, but I'm so damn sick of it. I know I volunteered to start at the bottom rungs of this new Torchwood, but that was so long ago. I had thought I'd be more than a gofer at this point.

"No thanks." He nuzzles me, making me blush. Was I always this subdued, this submissive? I remember back when I wore leather and beat things up with bats. Or was it a stick? That time feels so long ago. I nearly kissed him then. It wouldn't be the same way I kiss him now. Softly, demurely. I was going to mash my lips against his and bite his jaw with my front teeth and inhale his pheromones. But I didn't. And I won't now. It's not my place, now. Same as it's really not the place for Jack to be sticking his hands down my pants.

"Jack, please... " I glance at the entrance to the kitchen. This is possibly -the- _least_ secure place in the hub. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

"Please what?" He nips my ear and the pendulum swings in my heart, making my gut wrench. "How about we give Owen some extra cream in his coffee?" He purrs seductively, and I'm glued to the spot. I sigh.

"Sure. Of course."

It's not like bondage is always a bad thing, right?


	13. 13: Bed

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Three hundred fourteen beds and several sofas. Several? Umpteen. Yes, three hundred fourteen beds and seventeen sofas. Many of the beds have never been slept in. Very few have ever had anyone dream in them, make love in them, cuddle between their sheets. If pillows could sigh disappointment and the feeling of being unfulfilled, the TARDIS bedrooms would never be silent. The few fumbling romances that have unfolded throughout history on the Doctor's TARDIS have taken on a near sacredness, the sordid details repeated until all meaning is lost and all truth whittled down to the bare meager bones, embellished in longing, whispered back and forth between the walls, remembering long past the real memories turning to dust.

In short, Jack Harness was a breath of unexpectedly fresh air to the nooks and crannies of the Time And Relative Dimensions In Space ship. He brought to the beds (and sofas) His pheromones, and thusly, a new hope. New stories, so much new material for the quiet bedding to work with. Even though he didn't bring any actual sex to any of the three hundred and fourteen beds, he brought heavy breathing, and sweat. Who is the TARDIS to judge?  
Masturbation is sex with someone you love, after all.  
And Jack loves himself very, very much.

The urge he has to cross his own time stream to fornicate with himself is kept in check only because of fear of the repercussions, the consequences. If he could just have twenty four hours risk free with himself, to dopplegangbang, to engage in mirrorbation, to sixty six himself. The TARDIS new the fantasy, Jack was vocal. And the TARDIS wished too.

For years, long after Jack's brief stay, the TARDIS would murmur fantastical things of Jack meeting Jack, of thrusting and kisses and impossible love making. All it takes is a spark of inspiration to keep the beds of the TARDIS happy.


	14. 14: Innocence

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"You know, not even hell could be hotter than you right now." Jack mused in a sing song voice, a smirk audible if not seen. "Babe, you are so hot you melt snow." Jack carelessly tossed off a few more sweet and sarcastic-sounding nothings in Ianto's general direction, distracted.

Ianto flushed red at Jack's words, tightening his panicked grip on the hem of his silk boxers. "We're both going there for this, you know. Hell, I mean. For being... like this."

"Hmm?" Jack raised his eyebrows and glanced up from lubing up his ready member. "I'm not. You're not. Hell doesn't exist, Ianto. You're a smart man, you must know that. If you don't, just trust me. No such thing as hell."

"If course sir." Ianto's voice was strained, thick.

Jack frowned. "Don't do that."

"Of course, Jack." Ianto continued to stand and stare, confused and ashamed of his halfhearted arousal. This was a mistake. He was joking, and now he was mostly naked, it was moving so fast...what an idiot. 'things to do with a pocket-watch', what a stupid stupid man he was. He wasn't ready for this, for any of it,

"Well?" Jack's single word knocked Ianto from his silent worries.

"Well what?" Ianto felt lost. Lost in the conversation, lost in the world, lost in his life. Just...lost.

"Are we going to do this, or not?"

Ianto fought his hardest not to cry, but tears slipped out against his will. "You're not Lisa, Jack. I haven't, you know, at all... since her. You're... you're not even a woman, I don't know what to... how to... I...where do we even start? I don't know... anything. I'm so... "

"Shh." Jack's arms were warm, strong, and safe. Ianto let himself melt against the older wiser, man. "Shh. Relax. I'll make all the pain go away."

Ianto Jones let himself be held like a child until he calmed. He kissed Jack with need lips and gripped his shoulders with fidgety fingers. Jack's long skillful hands and hot throbbing groin relieved Ianto of his innocence, pulling long loud moans from the fresh and unaccustomed lips.

And it felt good, so good. So very good. Too good. Good enough for Ianto live for.

For now, at least.


	15. 15: Insanity

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"On your knees, slave. Now." Grey's tone never changes. It is always stern and commanding. He never, ever says please. He knows he doesn't have to.

"Yes, Master Grey." As I take him into my mouth I ponder how I got to this point. I just wanted Jack to love me. I'd bring him his baby brother, and maybe I could get in his bed. Instead I've got a bomb fused to my skin and a cock between my lips. This is so twisted. As much as I like these sorts of games, i tend to be the dominant party. Being switch like this pisses me off more than it turns me on. Should I bite? No, that would just make things worse. He's insane. He's rambling his plan now, about how he'll make Jack pay. Thrusting down my throat as he plans revenge. And I thought _I_ had issues. His orgasm doesn't cause even the slightest pause in his recitation, but he tugs my hair a bit harder, making sure I can't pull away. I don't like his salty, bitter taste, but I don't dare spit. I swallow the foulness down and try not to vomit. It's difficult not to gag, but I manage.

"Good slave." He pets my hair hard, like a small child unaware of how fragile a bird is, crushing the creature's ribs by accident. Except that with Grey, there are no accidents. If he hurts me, it is because he wanted to. I have a sudden surge of anger, my eyes narrowing.

"My name is John Hart! You'd do well to remember it, you insolent little brat!" The impact in my neck hurts more than my cheek when he slaps me, my head snapping to one side and making a sickening crack.

"Don't dare disrespect me, slave. I'll kill you. You know I will." I look into his eyes, searching for a scrap of humanity, of mercy. All I can see is his pain, his suffering, his capacity to hate. There isn't a shred of mercy or humanity or decency in those eyes. Those dark, soulless eyes, so much like Jack's yet indescribably different. Grey would have Jack's smile, if he could lift the corners of his mouth in anything other than spiteful smirks.

I look at Grey, and try to see Jack. But all I can see is his insanity.


	16. 16: Cry

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Hot salty tears cascade down his new face, one with ears just a little bit too big. How can he think about his ears right now, there are so many far more important things to absorb. His family, gone. His friends, gone. Nothing left, none of them left. Just a blank space in the Medusa cascade, where there should be His Galifrey, his home, his childhood and life. The red grass of his home planet aflame with real fire, the silver leaves burnt black, his last glimpse of his post-card pretty world being one of a Dalek holocaust. Children screaming, his children, his family. All gone. Nothing left but a single Timelord and a stolen Time And Relative Dimension And Space machine. All of Galifrey locked away out of space-time. Forever. The Doctor looked out into the blank nothingness, the seemingly vast pocket where his planet should be. Where his home had been.

He could do nothing but sob like an infant. A mewling, fresh from the biofeed, defenseless and useless and helpless infant. He eventually tore his eyes away from the calm and quiet scene, screams still echoing in his mind. The blue wooden door closed with a sound of finality, a chapter of the Doctor's life tucked behind him now. Closed off, not to be thought of again. There are other planets to visit, it's not like he was really attached to Galifrey in any case.

Earth. Earth is safe, and fun. It is the second home to the Doctor, somewhere where he can be safe. He was exiled there once, living there again will be just like old times. He'll be fine, make new friends, make new enemies. Make new adventures, new memories, a new life. Things will be okay. A companion, some adventures, some traveling. Just like the old days.

Oh who the hell is he kidding? And once again, he breaks down crying. This will take time. Time to run out of tears, to forget the freshness of this wound. Time to grow attached to something new. Sadly, time is one thing the doctor has a lot of.


	17. 17: Hold My Hand

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Grey tosses and turns in his bed, John Hart curled up by his feet much like a content dog. The Master of the Dog is in the grips of a terrible dream, causing his blood to run cold, for sweat to coat is furrowed brow and mat his bead-head hair. It's not going to be a good night.

Running, running across the beach. Where's my mommy? Daddy, said to run. My hand, it's slipping. What's going on, all I can hear is screaming... no, don't let go! Time slows and I am filled with as much terror as my eight year old body can hold. Everything trembles, I feel like I can't breathe. One of the creatures is eating someone, feet from me. The person is still screaming. The sand is slipping under my sandals, the ground is coming up fast. Oh God Oh God oh mother of all things I am so afraid. I am so very afraid. I'm going to die. The time is still moving slowly, my fingers slipping from my big brother's. Sweat creating a slick coating between our palms, he is running faster than my little legs will allow me to go, this dune is too steep for me, and he's not going to slow down. My stomach lurches, one of the creatures grabs my ankle, its mouth in someone's ribcage, a still beating heart between it's teeth. I am too terrified to scream. His hand is now free of mine, and the focal point of my existence. I take a breath, I'm going to scream his name. I'm going to, it's my sole want in life, to yell for my brother. And I fall, getting a mouthful of sand.

Coughing, fear, supreme fear. The sand under my bottom gets wet, like my pants, as I lock eyes with the bloody alien that has me by the ankle. I'm crying, sniveling, dirty. Terrified. It growls at me, something that I don't understand. I don't under-

"Oh God!" Grey exclaims, waking from yet another nightmare, looking over at John Hart sleeping at the end of the bed, curled oh so submissively by his feet. The words don't even make the uniformed man stir, and Grey is glad. His nightmares are not the affairs of his pets. He never did understand what the Aliens wanted, only that they hurt him, and that it was Jack's fault.

"You let go of my hand, big brother. I'll never forgive you."


	18. 18: Gang Bang

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

It goes like this:

"I don't know, Jack... it's so... intimate." I squirm, biting my lower lip as I eye the blind fold in my lover's hands. The night is still young, we've only just started, small things, kissing, going surprisingly slow and gentle compared to Jack's typical wham bam thank you ma'am approach.

"I have a surprise. It'll be worth it, I promise. It's something special." He smiles his charming smile at me, and I can't help it, my stomach fills with butterflies and I take the silk bit of fabric from him, fastening it about my head.

"I can't see a thing, Jack." I grope out blindly, fingers of my left hand finding Jack's chest, running circles around his nipple. We kiss and cuddle a bit as I grow accustomed to the darkness.

"That's the point." He chuckles his warm, friendly chuckle, and evades my fingers. The bed shifts and I have a moment of panic, almost falling over. Then, Jack's hands pressing me to the bed, his tongue on my neck, the smooth flow of him moving down my body, parting my thighs. But there's something wrong, I reach in the direction of the bed having dipped, and am caught by the wrist, Jack's grip strong.

"What's...there's something there. I...I know there is. Jack, what's..."

"Shh." He silences me with a kiss, and I furrow my brow. "It's the surprise. Don't worry... Relax. I'm going to kiss and suck you, nice and slow... okay?"

I still feel that there's something there, and it makes me worry. Maybe it's just a package or something. Whatever it is, it's heavy though, and OHGOD. It moved. "It moved. There's someone here. What's going on?" I reach to undo my blind fold, but a cool bony hand meets my fingers first.

"Smart little piece of eyecandy, isn't he?" I know that voice. It's Jim...no, John! John...something.

"What the hell, Jack. What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Surprise!" Jack's voice is far too happy for this situaahahnnn oh God. A tongue. On my nipple. He knows I like that, he knows I... no, that's not Jack. Jack is kissing my thighs. I want to yell, I feel violated. But all I can do is moan. They both know what they're doing, they both know so much more than I do. Four hands, one on each thigh, one teasing a nipple, the other on my wrist. A fifth on my free hand, a sixth cupping my jaw. WAIT. Six. That's. That's three people.

"Who...ahnn...who's kissing my neck?" The hands on that side of me are smaller, almost feminine. I toss my head in that general direction, letting out another moan as Jack takes my needy leaky member between his lips. My back arches off the bed, if feels so good when he does that one thing, with his tongue, I've never been able to describe properly. That thing he's doing right now, to distract me. Distract me...? Oh Yes. "Who is that? Ahnn... mm... please?" I whimper, and blush, humiliated by my weakness and vulnerability.

I hear John chuckle, and his teeth nip my chest, pulling a startled gasp from my lips. I'm suddenly rather jostled, Jack pulls his lips away. I'm in Jack's lap. John's hands, the cool ones, they have both my arms behind my back. This is thrilling...I mash lips blindly with Jack, my erection pinned against his stomach, as his teases my tailbone. He's slick already, I don't know when he did that. I don't really care... John's lips are all over my back, it makes me writhe. That someone else has gripped my hair, pulling my head to one side, so he can bite my neck. He's making a hickey. I don't like hickeys, they take time and care to hide. And now Jack is lifting my hips, fingers teasing for only a few moments before he slides his hardness home, bringing more whimpers and moans from my wet, bitten lips.

"Ah...oh God... " I squeeze the member consciously for a few seconds, then starts moving up and down the throbbing length, Jack's firm grip helping guide me...I only make it a few trips before there's a finger alongside Jack, stretching me further. "I...ow... ah."

The lips on my neck shift, turn into a frown, and pull away. "You've got to be careful. I'm a doctor, I should know... you don't want to tear his muscles."

I tense all over, Jack lets out a loud groan. Owen has given me a hickey. Wonderful. My cheeks are too flushed for me to blush, and I'm too aroused to be properly angry. And he's sparing me the wrath of John's pork sword, so I'm afraid I have to be gratefuaha...ah. What the... Cold... and...Jack's still in there, I can't... it's too big..

"You have to use more lubricant, add two or three fingers alongside the current penetrator, then spread them. Like that."

I rest my face on Jack's shoulder, trying not to cry. "T-too much. I don't... I don't want...it's not...it AH!" John just forced past the ring of muscles. Jack is petting my hair and kissing my cheek, Owen is rubbing my back from the side. I'm trembling all over, and the room is silent for a few minutes, minutes that seem to last hours, as I catch my breath and adjust. Now Jack holds my hips still, elevated, and he and John take turns slowly moving against each other inside me. I'm so full, it hurts but it's so much more than I've ever imagined having, too. It doesn't take them long to have me moaning again. I can feel the small change in weight and angle as Jack leans away, to lay on his back, and Owen leaves my side to straddle my lover's hips, playing with my Little Ianto in an almost clinical fashion, kissing my chest.

"You look happy, coffee-bitch." Owen teases gently, and I manage a half laugh between a moan as Jack spurts his load inside me, pulling out gently, John still keeping his grip on my wrists, my fingers nearly numb. I am leaned until my face is on...Jack's? No. Owen's thighs. They're bare and hot and I can smell his cologne and musk. John is still moving in my bottom, and Owen takes his grip on my hair again, leading his member to my lips. I blindly suck and drool around it. I've never been particularly good at oral, but I know better than to bite. Jack's rubbing my back now, and whispering sweet nothings of encouragement in my ear. I'm glad to make him happy, his voice is what I focus on. That, and the reach-around I'm getting from John. I'm so very close, I can feel that hot little spring in my stomach winding tighter and tighter.

Owen fills my mouth just as John finishes against my inner spot, my own peak is milliseconds later, my black blindness being filled with white light and ecstasy, both men pulling out and away, cum dribbling down my chin and thighs. I hear them leave the room, Jack holds me close, and I drift off to sleep.

And then it's over, Journal. Just... over. As if it never happened at all.


	19. 19: DrugsAlcohol

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Ianto was drunk. He was certain he'd only had half a shot of what he'd found in Jack's flask, but he was drunk. He was drunk and lonely and the hub made such frightening noises in the dark. So alone, so full of Echoes. Owen, Tosh, both gone, never to return. That woman, that what's her face... she was with her husband. Reese. Like the American candy. And Jack was just... out. Again. Ianto was sick of being alone, sick of being in the open, frightened by noises. He didn't want to be a housekeeper, doing all the final cleaning up at the end of the night while his supposed boyfriend went to clubs. He was sick of waiting up for Jack. He was sick of everything, sick to his stomach. A weevil roared in the basement, and Ianto sprinted in no particular direction, hitting a wall, falling into a closet. It was safe there. Warm. It smelled like Jack, and Jack always smells so safe, to Ianto.

When Jack came home to the hub at three in the morning, he found Ianto curled in a spare greatcoat amongst extra shoes, stinking of hyper-vodka and drooling all over the rich material. It was an adorable sight, much like finding a puppy curled in the carnage of a chewed leather sofa. Not that Jack necessarily viewed his partner as a floppy eared little dog, but... well the comparison could be made. Jack heaved a sigh and lifted his nearly comatose lover and brought him to bed. Ianto maintained a tight grip on Jack's coat, inhaling from the lapel with sleepy mumbles.

"Ianto. Ianto, wake up. Give me my coat." Jack was mildly annoyed as he tried to wrestle the garment from his drunken fuck buddy's hands. "That's not yours, give it back."

With a tired stubbornness, Ianto refused to give the coat up. "You're such a fobwatch, Jack. I jus'... I jus' wanna cuddle it. If I can't cuddle you, I can has your coat, mhmm? At least? Yeah." The tie wearing man bit into the coat, clinging to it for dear life. Jack gave up.

"Fine, keep the coat. Just... Don't complain during tomorrow's hangover. Try and get some sleep." Jack shook his head and let Ianto take the bed, going to his office and finishing paperwork until dawn.

When Ianto woke up his mind was buzzing and everything hurt... his clothes were itchy and he kicked them off unceremoniously, wrapping Jack's coat around himself, shivering when the silk lining brushed his weary morning wood.

"Mmph." Ianto slowly shifted back and forth, rubbing a leaky tip against the soft inner lining, inhaling the scent of Jack's pheromones from the neck of the coat. His body buzzing with hyper-alcohol, Ianto bucked with mounting confidence against the coat laid against pillows, soon losing himself in the rush of orgasm, staining the coat with thick white liquid.

"You'd better dry clean that." Jack muttered, leaning against the door frame.

"Yessir, Jack." Ianto panted with a grin. "Of course."


	20. 20:Strangulation

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"Where's Jack?" John's voice is rough, demanding. Rude.

"He's not here. He's busy. You're not welcome here in any case. Go back to wherever you came from." Ianto's eyes are narrow, his posture defensive.

"Oh shut up, Eyecandy. I'll just wait." John sits his perfect little ass on the sofa and props his boots up on the coffee table, staring defiantly at the coffee-boy.

"No. Get out. He doesn't want you to be here, he's not with you anymore." Ianto tenses under his light pink collared shirt. Salmon, the saleslady had called it. He feels ridiculous now though, so flamboyant compared to this piece of pure sex. If Jack came back, he'd kiss John. Ianto knows this as a fact, and it makes him angry. In a fit of idiotic alpha male mentality, Ianto hoists John up from the sofa by the shoulders, straining underused muscles to the breaking point as the man from the future struggles.

"He should be with ME!" John snarls, wrapping both hands around Ianto's neck, starting to squeeze.

Ianto wheezes and coughs, falling onto the sofa, pushing against his attacker. "N-no! H-he's maa...mine!"

John pulls one hand away and brings it down hard against Ianto's cheek, not just slapping, but clawing, leaving a thin scratch. "Ha. Marring your pretty little features, Eyecandy. Maybe I should wreck you all over, wouldn't that be fun?"

Ianto struggles into the sofa, away from the hand, and spits up into John's face. "Sadist!" He whispers as loudly as he can manage. "This won't make him love you!"

John leans into the pressure on Ianto's throat, and things start to get blurry for the Welshman. He can feel as his pants are pulled off and tossed aside, as John's nails rake his thighs. He can feel absolutely everything, from the rough entry to the brutal thrusting, to the bites on his chest shoulders and neck. But he's not really there. Part of him is in a panic, he doesn't have enough air, he might pass out. Another part of him is now part of the coffee table, which looks so bizarre from this angle, in this lighting. He feels it, when John finishes, pulls out, and wipes excess semen and some blood on his stomach, but he doesn't move.

"There, Eyecandy. Tell Jack that John came calling, won't you?" The future man snickers, and walks out, leaving a shaken Ianto to slowly pick up his clothes. He won't tell Jack, he can't.

Because he feels wrecked, and doesn't want to be abandoned.

Because Jack is his, and he won't let John win this way.


	21. 21: Fisting

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"Do you always use a hairdryer?" Jack yelled over the sound of the infernal accessory, rolling his eyes at the amount of time it took his lover to get ready and discarding an empty teacup from their breakfast.

"To make my hair look this good, of course I do. After every shower."

"So if we have a quickie now, and you have to have another shower?"

"Then I'll have to dry my hair again." Ianto made a pained face. "And we'll be late."

"Then we'll be late." The greatcoat wearing man strode the few steps between Ianto and himself, pulling the still slightly damp body close to his clothed one.

"Are you wearing yesterday's clothes?" Ianto asked between two hot breathless kisses, unbuttoning the seemingly familiar shirt of his boss.

"I changed my socks. Does it matter? Get your ass on the bed." Jack tossed the Welshman to the mess of blankets and sheets, kissing each thigh and nipping once, lightly, making the other man squeak.

"I just... oh!" Ianto squirmed, growing hard for the fourth time since Jack had brought him to this hotel the night before with nothing more than an over night bag with essentials. Hair dryer, suit, pomade, tie, etc.

Jack continued with teasing little licks and kisses, keeping Ianto's legs spread.

"We're taking a sick day. I want us to try something new. Do you remember the safe-word?"

"C-coffee, isn't it?"

"Sure, whatever. I'm just... curious." Jack licked between the cheeks again, then reached for the nearly empty bottle of lubricant, coating his fingers.

"Curious, sir?"

"About just how much of me you can take." Jack smirked and slide three fingers into the relaxed and well worn hole, spreading them and teasing the prostate, that little nub of nerves.

Ianto moaned loudly, and hugged a pillow against his chest, pulling his knees up higher. "W-we can't just n-not show up for work."  
"I don't think you'll be able to walk when I'm done with you, let alone serve coffee." Jack's tone was playful, but there was an undertone of seriousness to it.

"Wha-what? OH!" Ianto's body snapped to an uncomfortable posture as Jack added his pinky, his hands large and warm and coated in lubricant up to his wrist.

"I can feel your pulse, Ian." Jack laughed, enjoying this thoroughly, flexing his fingers slowly, then adding his thumb.

Ianto felt filled, -too- filled. His typically tight bud of muscles now slowly accepting all of Jack's knuckles, sliding down to envelope his wrist like a watch. It was like taking their largest toy, and then some. He couldn't speak, the fear of startling Jack was monumental. If Jack sneezed, and...Ianto couldn't fully suppress a shudder as all five fingers played with his prostate, palming it, then giving it a small squeeze.

"OH GOD." Ianto tensed, then fell limp, semen dripping down slowly from the ceiling where it was deposited.

Jack very slowly, very carefully removed his hand from his lover, giving him a peck on the cheek. "My little meat puppet. I'll be right back, got to go wash up."

Ianto nodded, murmuring an agreement and falling asleep. They didn't go into work the next day, either.

It was a full week before Ianto could walk properly.

Jack considered it a week well spent.


	22. 22:MasterSlave

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

"Say my name!" The Master snarled through gritted teeth, thrusting ever deeper into the Doctor's abused hole. The air conditioning of the Valiant hummed, but the Doctor was silent, eyes closed, retreated within himself.

"I SAID SAY MY NAME, SLAVE!" The Master slapped the man across the face, relishing the instinctual tightness he was awarded as the Doctor tensed. The Master groaned, and tried another tactic, taking a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting cruelly. The Doctor gasped and opened his eyes, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind him cutting into his wrists. He glared, but kept his mouth shut."

"Do you like that, bitch?" The Master upped the pace of thrusting, his other hand teasing the previously unmolested nipple, using his manicured nails to bite into the sensitive flesh. The Doctor's member had remained flaccid between their two stomachs for the past forty five minutes of preparation and rape, but when their eyes met it gave a pitiful little twitch.

"Oh, I see you like -something-." The Master laughed, and the Doctor turned his face away, only to have it forced back to meet the Master's in a hungry, toothy kiss. "Open your eyes, Slave. Open them for me, and maybe I'll finish things up faster."

The Doctor wearily opened his eyes, both hearts pounding as his eyes met the Master's and he started to kiss back, appeasing the monster on top of him. He just wanted things to end, the sooner the better, and if that meant playing along, then so be it. He moaned lightly against the Master's lips, letting his nerves deliver all the messages of pain and pleasure to his brain. The blonde man took the slowly hardening organ in his hand, playing with it gently, smirking that God-awful smirk of his.

"That's better, pet. Come on now, say my name... I want to see you say it..."

The Doctor shook his head, and tested the handcuffs again, wincing as the metal broke bruised skin, drawing blood. The Master laughed, rubbing the tip of the doctor's reluctantly erect member with his thumb, slowing the thrusting to playfully tease, pulling back his need to orgasm, lengthening the session of their lovemaking.

"Always so resistant...tut tut... that just won't do..." The Master played is fingers up and down the Doctor's skinflute, teasing the hot skin, managing to pull a trembling moan from the man under him. "You need to behave, or I might do something nasty." The Master laughed, and reached further down, gripping the Doctor's balls, giving them a harsh tug, causing the man to cough, tighten, and his eyes to widen in fear and pain, his erection drooping.

"I want to bring you pleasure, but you have to behave. Do you understand?" The Master licked the doctor's neck. "You have to be a good little slave..." He nipped the doctor's ear. "A good little boy."

The doctor battled mixed feelings. The Master was a force of evil, he couldn't, _wouldn't_ give in. But.. the breath on his neck, the threats on his manhood... he had little choice if he wanted to end this. He could give in, suffer quietly, and go back to being just a captive.

"I understand. Master."

It still took three hours for the Master to finish playing with his new toy. Giving in didn't really make him work any faster. It was just fun, to watch the Doctor break. And very fun, very fun indeed, to know the Doctor knew his new place.


	23. 23: Oral

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

Ianto's jaw ached. It had for the past 8 hours, and nothing was helping. The Dentist had said that there may be some 'minor tenderness' after having the cavity filled, but nothing had prepared him for this dull persistent pain that seemed to reach into his skull and just sit there. After a good day's work at the hub, he was finally able to just sit with ice against his face, trying to quell the agony.

"Hurths mo'e than it di' when I wen' inta the bloody Dentisth's offarce." He grumbled to no one in particular, pouring himself a third glass of port this evening, trying to relax. The combination of the alcohol and Novocaine and over the counter gum-numbing gel left his head swimming, throbbing behind his persistantly painful mouth.

"You know I only have one cellar-full of that stuff, Ian..." Jack joked gently. "If you drink it all, it'll just be gone."

The timeless man shimmered and wobbled in Ianto's inebriated view. "I's justht three glasthess" Ianto resented the lecture, the other man had no right, he didn't know. If Jack ever got a toothache, he could just die and get better. This made Ianto feel bitter, a coldness clenching in his sloshing belly. "I -hurt-. Can't sleep. Can'th. Been daysth sincth shleep."

Jack stepped in closely, removing the half full glass from Ianto's pliant fingers, setting it aside, peppering the Welshman's damp face with light kisses. "Let me make you feel better... "

Ianto groaned as Jack gently kissed down his neck, undoing his tie with cool fingers and nipping at the freshly exposed throat. The Welshman gasped and shifted as clothing was undone, tossed aside, unzipped. He moaned as Jack took his limp and unready member in his mouth. Ianto had given Jack head dozens of times, before his tooth had started to bother him. He had never though to ask Jack to return the favour, it honestly had simply not occurred to him. As his loins stirred to life, he tries earnestly to make a mental note, to have this again, sober, when he could feel a bit more.

Jack moaned around Ianto's salty length, choking it back competently, and letting fingers grip his short hair with desperation. He gently pinned Ianto's hips to stop the inexperienced man from face-fucking him into oblivion. He teased his tongue from tip to base again and again, faster and faster, an endless repetition.

Ianto's semen had an under-taste of coffee. Jack smiled up at the man, no, -his- man, and did up the zipper. Ianto was now happily snoozing, shirt askew, tie abandoned. Jack carried the Welshman to a bed, tucked him in, and cuddled. It wasn't much, but it was what he could do. To take away the pain, to help Ianto sleep, to show him he cared. Because actions are stronger than words, and it takes so many little actions to say 'I love you'.


	24. 24: Voyeurism

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please review! Of course this is going to be Mature, and mostly male on male! Please read and review!

* * *

There are lots of drawbacks to having a semi-functioning time vortex strapped to your wrist. There are even more bonuses though, and that's what I try to focus on. This thing is a super-multi tool. I can turn on all the hub lights, and use it as a cell phone, and run my blue-tooth through it, and all sorts of amazing things. I think I can make cars lock themselves, too. So when it pulls me away from foreplay with my boyfriend I really shouldn't complain. Ianto has asked me to take it off though, and now I'm thinking maybe I should have listened. But it's like putting down a cell phone, mid text. Except the texts are with my brain, through my skin... this device is part of me. Ugh, time travel without a capsule is so discombobulating. I think I need something to settle my stomach. Yes, a sandwich.

Jack stumbles to the hub kitchen, running a hand through his bed-mussed hair. It's dark, and quiet. But not typical quiet. Just under the hushed tones of moving air, the hum of the ventilation, the purr of the refrigerator and occasional caw of the pterodactyl, just under that cacophony of small noises in the night, there was just one little something extra. Grunts, quiet whispers, gentle moans. Jack hurries with his bologna sandwich to the entrance of his room, peeking in.

What is that? Is that me? Is that Ian? Oh God he's doing that thing with his face. I couldn't see it, right, of course...I was too busy getting him all ready, and sucking and kissing his thighs. He always tastes so good... this is just a few minutes ago, just before I ... right, there I go. I guess I should just walk in and - oh. There I am again. I don't think Ianto even noticed.

Jack winks at Jack, and Jack backs off, smirking and enjoying his sandwich. Jack resumes licking Ianto's thighs, a bit of lettuce stuck at the corner of his mouth, fresh lube on his fingers.

I think I'm going to enjoy this. It's like personalized porn, I'm watching someone I love very dearly. And Ianto, too. I love him, in a way, and the look on his face makes me so... hard. God I love how he scrunches his face up when he's grunting, and panting, and ... I need lube. I could definitely rub one out to this view. Oh God yes... I'm done eating, I should go get that emergency lubricant, from the closet...

Jack almost absentmindedly wipes the lettuce from his mouth, potentially causing a paradox that would destroy the world. He finds the lube, applies it, returns. He's got it all over his hand, is just about to undo his pants. He watches as Ianto gets -that- face, that wonderful face, and moans -that- moan, finishing on other Jack's stomach. The best part as over, and Jack is starting to reconsider his masturbatory plans. Which is good, as he finds himself many minutes in the past winking at himself.

This makes sense. That's me and that's when I was watching my place here about to have sex with.. right. I lick Ianto's thighs and there's lettuce on my face and I'm just about to thrust and... I have to do this right. I watched and now I have to preform just as what I saw or the universe could collapse. I should have looked away, not crossed my own time line. This is going to be the best sex of Ianto's life, he was moaning just right and I need to hear those exact moans once again.

This is going to be fun.


	25. 25: Police

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please read and review!

* * *

Police uniforms, dark and serious with their shiney badges and ironed creases and polished shoes. Red and blue flashing lights on the expensive cars, clean and imposing. Sirens, wailing against the twilight. His sister pulling him away from the window as the heavy knock shakes the door. It was all his fault. If he'd not tried to speak up at the hospital, making his father angry in front of the concerned looking nurse. She must've called the cops, after they'd left. If he'd not fallen off of the swing in the first place. If his father hadn't pushed him so hard, so high, so roughly. If his bones had been stronger and he hadn't broken his leg. If he'd never been born at all.

That would pretty much be worth it at this point, to save the trouble and embarassment. His father, face turning bright red as he was forced into handcuffs, taken away under suspected abuse. Maybe if anyone would let him speak, let full sentances get out of his mouth, maybe he could explain things. Maybe he, Ianto Jones, could make things right. But then his sister answers for him when the social services woman asks about his leg, still in the fresh cast, not yet signed by any of his school chums. Would he be able to go to school like this, with this much termoil? Would he be able to focus in class, keep up the grades he was so desperate to maintain only because he hoped on day they would make his father happy? Even in school it seemed to him he was always been spoken over, ignored, interrupted. His entire life seemed that way, always getting cut off, always being spoken for, or told to hush. It was a miracle he could get out a full thoug-

"Ianto!"

The fully grown man blinks, snapping back to his current reality, his real life, his adult life. He shakes his head, dismissing memories of a childhood long gone. "Yeah, Jack?"

"You didn't answer my question. You just stared off into space. Are you alright?"

Ianto forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired, I promise. What was the question again?"

Jack holds up a scanty police uniform, and twirls a pair of handcuffs with one finger. The chains clink and Ianto shivers. "Police. Are they hot?"

That smirk. Ianto can never deny that smirk. "Yeah. Of course they are. Everything you do is."


	26. 26: Gun

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please read and review!

* * *

gun[guhn] noun, verb, gunned, gun·ning.

–noun

1.

a weapon consisting of a metal tube, with mechanical attachments, from which projectiles are shot by the force of an explosive; a piece of ordnance.

2.

any portable firearm, as a rifle, shotgun, or revolver.

3.

a long-barreled cannon having a relatively flat trajectory.

Used for hunting, war, murder, suicide. Used to theaten pain or death on people, or their loved ones. Used to imply power to weak desperate scared little people who shouldn't have weapons so readily available. Used to end lives. Good lives, lives full of potential. I don't like guns. I never have and I never will. I nightmare about them. About the weight in my hand, the blood on my face. About what I did, during the war. Not fighting the Daleks, I can never regret that. I knew I had to lock all of Galifrey out of space and time. I don't regret that, either. It was the only thing to do. I knew it would let them live their final second for all eternity though. And I knew my children were in pain.

I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let them suffer forever that way. I loved them too dearly, my sons, my only family. I have never told anyone this, it hurts to think about, it makes the guilt rise in my stomach and clog my throat. I shot them. I lined them up and hugged them and cried and I shot them to kill them to end things before the lock, before the end of the only world my boys had ever known. I wasn't intending to really get out of there alive. If I'd known. I maybe could have- no. That's not the way to think about things. It's too late for that. The Tardis kidnapped me, not I her. She said as much herself.

Perhaps the worst of it is that I have to smile. For my companions, for the planets I protect in penance for my sins. Hiding the misery behind forced smiles and laughs, a false happiness that sometimes for instances, mere moments, is real. But not right now. Not for these words. Not as I stare at the centurion holding the woman I know will grow up to shoot me. But I make the words leave my lips anyway. Because he deserves them.

"Yeah. Happy Father's day, Roricus."

And I don't.


	27. 27: Childhood

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please read and review!

* * *

"Children are the future."

"That doesn't mean I want any."

"We can adopt. Or maybe we cou-" Ianto was interrupted, Jack's finger falling on his lips.

"Ianto. Drop it. It's not right, for me. It's not fair, for me. Don't make me have this conversation again."

Ianto pouted. "But Jack!"

"No buts!" The man from the past and the future rolled, turning his back to his lover.

Ianto scowled at the toned back. "Fine then. None for you."

Jack sighed. "Children or butts?"

"Well, certainly no bottom of mine, if you're not even going to consider it."

"Consider it considered, Ianto. The answer is still no."

"Then... then no sex." The Welshman already knew it wouldn't work. That though he was upset he couldn't really withhold anything from Jack. He'd always been a pushover, even with Lisa. Jack knows it. Ianto knows Jack knows it. Always eager to please, so damn subservient.

"Yeah. Right. Goodnight, Ianto." Jack closed his eyes against the semidarkness, pretending he didn't feel Ianto's gaze boring into his skin.

"I mean it this time, Jack."

"Mhmm. Get some sleep."

"Is that an order, Sir?" The welshman's voice was tense, bordering on angry.

Jack sighed. "Not with this shit again, Yan...Not tonight, I thought we were over this."

"You haven't even bothered to ask me why I want them. It's like that doesn't matter to you."

"It -doesn't-. Go to sleep. Now."

Ianto curled up, hugging his knees, turning his back to Jack. "I never really had a childhood."

"Join the club. Go to sleep."

"Tell me to 'go to sleep' one more time and I'll just go home." The time traveler was silent. Jack liked having Ianto's warmth next to him, watching him wake up was one of his favourite things to do these days. "I always told myself that I would be a good father, better than my own."

"That's great, Ianto. It's good to have goals. Maybe one day you'll find a nice lady and knock her up and raise the kid and have a happy family, with a picket fence and a dog. Give me a call when you need a babysitter."

"You're a real bastard sometimes, Jack. Sometimes, when you say these things..." Ianto sighed, not sure how to put the dull burning anger into words.

"What, you hate me? Hate me. Go ahead."

"Jack, that's not what I-"

"Not what you said. Only what you mean. My brother is in goddamned cryo, Ianto. After blowing up half a city and trying his damndest to kill everyone. What kind of childhood do you think I had, if it bred that? What kind of father could I be, if I never age, if I never really forget my own problems, if I'm always so busy saving the Earth. I barely have time for you, let alone a child..."

Ianto hugged a pillow tightly. "Shut up. Just... forget we talked about this. Go to sleep."

"Most sensible thing you've said all night."


	28. 28: Keep a Secret

Hundred Theme Challenge, using Doctor Who and Torchwood. Suppose that makes this a cross over of the two genres, but as far as I'm concerned they're in the same Canon. Neither belong to me. Please read and review!

* * *

"Can you keepa secret?" Jack was nearly slurring his words, he had downed almost twice the hyper-vodka as Owen had, and they were both surely sloshed. His voice was low though, and his gaze intense.

"M'a doctor. I keep secrets all the time. Doc-tor patient con...confident-tieality." The booze had hit Owen harder, his smaller wirey frame sucking the alcohol in eagerly. He was going to have a hell of a headache in the morning.

"Why've we ne'er done this before?" Ianto interrupted. "The girls go out all the time... but we ne'er 'ad a guys night b'fore."

"Shaddupt Coffee boy," Owen snarked, turning his attention back to Jack. Ianto knelt and put his head on the hub coffee-table, trying to stop the room from spinning, closing his eyes. In moments he was drooling and snoring. Jack watched the scene with a faint and loose smile."You were sayin', Jack?"

"I oughta... I oughta put 'im in bed first..." With a chuckle and a stumble, the time traveler picked up the Welshman, making his way clumsily to their shared bed, tucking Ianto in and kissing his forehead before making his way back to the table.

"So.. a secr't, hmm? Tell me. Izzit 'bout Ian'o?"

Jack shook his head. Owen watched the way his eyes caught the light, feeling a sudden appeal for the man rise in his chest. "S'about me. I'm not... happy."

Owen frowned. "How long? Like...Clinny..cally ... clinically d'pressed not 'appy?"

"You're the doctor, doctor...you tell me."

Owen's brain was swimming, these thoughts were troubling but hard to grasp. "Jack, when you die... when you die, what... do you hope will happen?"

"That's the secret...you've gotta promise, Owen... gotta promise you'll keep it quiet."

"You don't wanna come back, do you. You wish it'd all jus'...end."

Jack nodded, frowning into his glass. "Ian'o doesn't need t'know. It's not his fault. It'd jus' trouble 'im, knowin' I wish I were dea-" He was startled to see Owen's eyes so close to his when he glanced up, more startled still when his numb lips met the other's. The kiss was rough, teeth clinking off each other's, and brief, ending with Owen pulling Jack's head to his chest, stroking the hair.

"Don't you dare die on us, Cap'n. Shhh... we need you. I need you."


End file.
